


The Fall

by sassafrassing



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe, Angst and Romance, Dark, Drug Use, F/M, Gun Violence, Past Drug Addiction, Police
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-16 13:41:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29333208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sassafrassing/pseuds/sassafrassing
Summary: In honor of her fiancé and hell-bent on catching his killer, a haunted Sakura abandons her career as a surgeon and quickly rises through the ranks of the Konoha Metropolitan Police Department. As she unravels a dangerous conspiracy threatening the foundations of the city, a charming silver-haired civilian is an addicting distraction she can't seem to shake.
Relationships: Haruno Sakura/Hatake Kakashi
Comments: 24
Kudos: 34





	1. In This World

Visible clouds lazily expelled from her mouth as she exhaled exhaustion into the frigid morning air. An icy wind bit at her exposed cheeks as she sat alone on a wooden bench in a park near her apartment. Initial rays of light and muted purple and pink hues began to emerge over the horizon. Frost coated the dead grass around her in a white sheen. Despite the low light, oversized, black aviators rested over the bridge of her nose and concealed her eyes from public view. A cup of hot coffee rested next to her as delicate fingers unzipped her leather jacket, taking out a small silver flask. Impatiently unscrewing the top, she generously poured its contents into her morning beverage in an attempt to fight off an impending hangover.

In the distance she saw a flash of silver and heard the tinkling sound of dog tags. A young, bundled up boy whizzed through the park on a bright, red bike as a short cut for his paper route. The dead tree branches above her slightly swayed in the wind, groaning at the forced momentum. Bringing her coffee to her lips, she gently blew the liquid before taking a large, satisfying gulp. Whiskey and coffee burned through her. Every morning started the same: park, solitude, coffee (with whiskey, more often than not). It was how she grounded herself before she commuted to the precinct. It was how she retethered herself to reality – the reality that he died.

Today was five years.

Five years since Sasuke was murdered in an alleged mugging gone wrong. He was found bludgeoned beyond recognition a block away from her apartment in an alley behind the convenience store. They had spoken not even five minutes before he died according to cellphone records and the autopsy report. No witnesses. No suspects. Barely any evidence. A few wooden splinters embedded in his caved-in skull. His blood splatter that contrasted harshly against fresh, white snow. A ransacked wallet deprived of cash. Some unidentifiable boot prints that were contaminated when police secured the scene. The higher ups had described it as an unfortunate instance of _'wrong place, wrong time.'_

_'A senseless, random act of violence.'_

It was all bullshit.

When she closed her eyes, she could still see his playful smirk, mesmerizing dark eyes, and silky raven hair that glistened with blue undertones in the sunlight. Sometimes she could still smell his citrusy and earthy scent that always calmed her. Sometimes she could still feel the warmth of his embrace and the gentle pressure of his fingers along her curves. Sometimes she could still hear the low, melodic tenor of his voice whispering sweet nothings in her ear or saying _'I love you'_ – his last words to her. When it became too unbearable, she fucked and drank recklessly to drown out the recollections… the sensations… the grief.

It was always too unbearable.

...

The hospital was where she first met Sasuke.

Mid-way through an extremely slow shift, she was killing time in the ER sipping a small cup of coffee. It was close to midnight. Glancing around the floor, nothing required her attention or expertise – a case of alcohol poisoning, a dislocated shoulder, and a sliced hand (the plastics attending on call was dealing with that). There was no life-threatening trauma. No one to cut open and save. So, she opted to catch up on updating patient charts and didn't bother to look up when the sliding doors chimed.

Meticulously writing her notes, her ears pricked up as fervent whispers and muffled giggles broke out. Determined to ignore the nonsensical chatter in favor of productivity, she continued scribbling away until a very loud, and unprofessional, squeal gushed from a receptionist. Narrowing her eyes, she snapped up her head to scold the girl when she caught sight of the distraction. He was… breathtaking, although nursing what looked like a nasty gash above his eyebrow with a bright orange hand towel.

She understood the initial shock of his appeal. How he caused such a commotion. However, she did not understand why the entire floor devolved into school children egging each other on to approach Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome. Patient care always came first. Sighing loudly, she dropped her pen and closed the chart she was working on, filing it away with one hand and discarding the empty paper coffee cup with her other hand. She swiftly stood up and made her way to the walk-in patient.

"By all means, let the poor man continue to bleed out," she scolded, startling the gaggle of enamored staff as she briskly approached the man. His dark eyes slightly widened at her sudden appearance and a small smirk emerged at her sarcasm.

She curtly addressed him, "Good evening, I'm Dr. Haruno and I'll be taking care of you. Please follow me."

"Hn," he acknowledged while trailing closely behind her. She didn't see how his gaze slowly dragged down her form.

Gesturing to an empty blue cot, "Please have a seat." He wordlessly complied.

Turning around, she grabbed hold of the yellow privacy curtain and heard a collective, disappointed groan from staff. Before closing it shut, she barked out to the floor, "Get back to doing something useful, before I find something for you to do!"

Frantic activity and a chorus of _'Yes Sakura-sensei!'_ exploded around them before being muffled by the drawn curtain.

"Sorry about that," she muttered while snapping on sterile latex gloves and grabbing alcoholic wipes and gauze.

He gave her an amused look, "Sorry for causing the commotion… Slow night?"

Turning back to face his exceptionally regal features, "Yes, but enough about that, Mister…?"

"Uchiha, Sasuke Uchiha."

"Well, Mr. Uchiha—"

"Sasuke, please," he lowly interrupted. Fuck he had a nice voice.

"Right, well _Sasuke_ ," she started while gently nudging his hand away from his wound, "Can you please tell me what happened?"

His response devolved into a soft hiss as she began cleaning the laceration above his brow.

Giving him an apologetic smile, "This will sting a bit."

"A bit late for a warning?" He quirked his uninjured brow, staring deeply into her emerald eyes.

She broke off their intense eye contact. Dabbing the cut with a piece of gauze, "You seem tough enough."

"Are you an intern?"

Narrowing her eyes at the dig and the blatant disregard of her introduction just minutes ago, "I'm a trauma surgeon."

"You seem incredibly young to already be an attending."

Shrugging, "I was accepted into Konoha Medical University when I was 17."

"Ah, so you're a _nerd_."

Ah, so he was an asshole.

Huffing slightly as she whipped her eyes back to his with a glare, "A nerd who graduated top of her class with honors, was accepted into the number one residency program in the country, did her fellowship with the legendary Tsunade Senju, and was appointed as the youngest ever surgical attending."

Smirking at the way her face flushed prettily with irritation, "Hn, I misspoke… you're a _mega_ nerd."

_"Listen you little shit—"_

"Is that a way to speak to a patient?"

"Would you like to file a complaint about my bedside manner?"

He gave her a small, genuine smile that took her breath away, "No, I find your lack of fawning refreshing"

She rolled her eyes, giving him an exasperated, small smile in return, "Well, you have two options Mr. Uchiha—"

_"Sasuke."_

"Right, _Sasuke_ , you have two options. You're unfortunately going to need stitches to close the wound, however the face is a rather delicate area. You can wait an hour until the plastics attending is done with another patient. Or I can stitch you up now, but you'll most likely scar a tad as it's not my specialty."

"What do you recommend, Dr. Haruno?

"Well, it depends… The night is still young and if I stitched you up, I could make sure you get out of here as fast as possible. But if you wait for plastics, your wound will heal like it never happened."

Pausing a breath, she decided to mess with him, " _Personally_ , I've always found scars to be hot. But in favor of self-preservation, your fangirls might maim me if I mangled your gorgeous face, so I'd recommend waiting for plastics."

A deep, soft chuckle erupted from him. She decided it was now one of her favorite sounds.

"I'll defer to your _personal_ expertise and wait for the other attending."

Nodding, she snapped off her gloves and tossed them in a trash bin, "Works for me, I'm going to get you started on your admittance paperwork. I'll be right— wait, you never told me what happened."

"That's correct."

"Well?" she asked expectantly.

Pure frustration marred his features as he let out a groan, "An idiot. An idiot is what happened."

Her brows furrowed in confusion, "What do you mean?"

Deflecting in favor of getting to know her better, "Why trauma surgery?"

She gave him an incredulous look at his non-linear thought process.

Persisting, "Why specialize as a trauma surgeon? Surely with your prodigious talents you'd pursue something elite like neuro or sexy like cardiothoracics."

A pause.

"Adrenaline," she whispered, surprising them both with her candor.

He silently urged her to continue, "I think it's because of the adrenaline, the rush when brawling against death. When a G.S.W. comes through those doors, I'm fighting like hell for every single breath in order to stabilize a patient. It's controlled chaos, it's pure... fun."

Suddenly, a rowdy voice bellowed, _"SASUKE UCHIHA? YOOOO WHERE YOU AT?"_

_"Dickless, you're going to get us kicked out."_

Alarmed, she went to wretch open the privacy curtains to yell at whoever the hell was disrupting a place of healing at this hour when a hand shot out, grasping her wrist with a firm grip.

His hand.

"Don't. That's the idiot who accidentally did this."

His touch was electrifying, searing her skin with a welcomed heat. Then he pulled her closer, beseeching her in a hushed tone, "I'd rather not deal with him… or have you leave me quite yet."

_"WHERE ARE YA SASUKE?"_

_"Sir, please calm down, you're disturbing the other patients..."_

Her breath hitched at their proximity and his words. He was staring at her with sincere, but intense, eyes.

_"Sir, I must insist you desist, otherwise we'll have to call—"_

_"THE COPS! We ARE the cops dattebayo! I'm looking for my bastard partner Sasuke Uchiha!"_

_"We're off duty dickless, Captain is going to kill—"_

Suddenly the curtains around them were thrown open and Sasuke immediately released his hold.

Bright cerulean eyes flashed in triumph, "OI TEME, WE FINALLY FOUND YOU! SORRY ABOUT THE BOTTLE TO THE HEAD THING!"

Scowling, Sakura swiveled to the rambunctious blonde and took purposeful steps to invade his personal space. Poking him hard in the chest with her index finger, she gave him a threatening glare and hissed, " _You._ If you don't settle down _immediately_ and stop terrorizing the patients and my staff, I'll ensure you have an _extremely_ painful reason for being admitted to this hospital."

In her periphery, she saw a pale man with delicate features and jet-black hair give her an empty, polite smile.

A wide grin broke out on the blonde's face and she noted he had the warmest, friendliest disposition, "Oh I really like her, you should ask her out _teme_!"

Sakura started sputtering at the suggestion and his continued yelling.

An annoyed drawl emerged from behind her, "I was trying to, _dobe_."

Eyes widening, she turned back to him with a challenging smile, "Oh really? Even with being an adrenaline junkie and my horrible bedside manner?"

" _Especially_ with your horrible bedside manner," a delectable smirk settled on his face, "What time does your shift end?"

Shaking her head in disbelief, "You're probably concussed... but I get off at 6:00."

"I AM _SUCH_ AN AWESOME WINGMAN!"

...

The hospital was where she first heard that Sasuke died.

Their first date, while initially meant to be a quick cup of coffee, lasted 6 hours. Their first kiss was underneath a dim, humming streetlamp as he walked her home after a long surgery. The first time they made love left them both equally breathless, their worlds fundamentally shifted. Their year-long romance was a whirlwind. A courtship culminating in a proposal that overjoyed her and their friends. Her parents passed away early in a violent car crash that only spared her. He was mostly estranged from his family. But all they needed was each other. With Sasuke, she was home.

Then, he was gone.

Finishing up her 12-hour shift and eager to get home, she saw Naruto and Sai standing in the lobby waiting for her. Their backs were turned toward her, and she couldn't see their somber expressions. Cheerfully calling out to them, her broad smile began to fade as she saw Naruto's rare, serious expression. His normally bright blue eyes were muted. Defeated. Brimming with unshed tears. Even Sai seemed to have a slight pained look on his typically blank face. She doesn't even remember what Naruto specifically told her, but she does remember the sensation of falling in a deep, black pit of utter despair. Nothing, not even Naruto's reassuring words and comforting hold, could stop her from drowning.

She stood out at Sasuke's funeral.

Her petite form, wide jade eyes, and bubble-gum short hair starkly contrasted with the statuesque and noble dark-eyed, dark-haired clan. The family had oddly forgone police funeral customs and traditions in favor of a private affair. Only her and Naruto were tolerated, although barely, based on the judgmental mummers. The priest's words fell on deaf ears as her grief consumed her. A consistent ringing muted her world as she stared dully at the closed coffin. This had to be a sick fucking joke. As the procession began filing out, she saw long, black spiky hair in the distance. Immediately she recognized that it belonged to _that_ man. Chief of Police at the Konoha Metropolitan Police Department. Sasuke's former boss. The renowned head of the Uchiha clan. Sasuke's uncle.

_Madara Uchiha._

Subconsciously her body moved, ignoring Naruto's panicked warning, rushing and weaving through the crowd in desperation for _that_ man's attention. Her attempts to call out his name were drowned out by the commotion around her. Finally catching up to him, she abruptly grabbed the arm of his expensive suit jacket. Her exquisite engagement ring shown brilliantly on her finger as her iron grip wrinkled the elegant fabric. Immediately his security detail surrounded them, guns drawn at her face. Peripherally she saw Sasuke's mother gasp in horror and heard Naruto's outraged protests in the distance.

She didn't even flinch.

He lazily waved them off, sighing lightly at their overreaction before pointedly asking her what she wanted. His commanding voice did make her flinch.

Not bothering to release him and with lucidity that had been absent since the news of Sasuke's death, "I want to join your department. I want to be a cop. A detective."

Several incredulous scoffs erupted around her, as if her declaration was ludicrous. Pure insanity from a grieving fiancée. But she didn't care, staring down at arguably the most powerful man in the city with an inextinguishable fire burning in her orbs. He looked at her expressionless. Slowly he grasped her arm in an unspoken command to let him go. She obeyed. His eyes were black and soulless, overwhelmingly intimidating. And dangerously calculating.

Giving her an almost imperceptible nod, "Come to my office tomorrow. Noon. We'll talk." Then he turned away, promptly ending their interaction. His entourage swiftly whisked him into a blacked out, armored SUV.

The next day, she cowardly submitted her verbal resignation to Tsunade in front of the hospital and numbly took the buxom blonde's explosive fury and scathing expressions of disappointment. The grounds and building itself seemed to tremble at her mentor's anger. All activity, with the exception of life-saving activity, had stopped to watch this figurative car crash. It was quite the spectacle.

Over a decade of education, investment, dedication, and sacrifice thrown down the drain. A promising, potentially Nobel prize winning medical career in exchange for a self-destructive job chasing after criminals and ghosts. She would be trained to kill instead of to heal. She would be put in circumstances that would make her violate the Hippocratic Oath. All valid points, but she didn't care. Not anymore. Before walking away, she gave Tsunade a deep bow, sincerely thanking her for years of mentorship. Tsunade slammed her hand against the brick wall, yelling after her out of frustration and heartbreak. Sakura never looked back.

Standing alone in front of Madara Uchiha in the privacy of his office was a surreal experience. Always an overachiever, she had submitted her application to the Police Academy first thing in the morning, prior to giving Tsunade her notice. She brought a printed copy, just in case, for his records. In a meticulously pressed, highly decorated uniform, he exuded a well-earned air of superiority that easily dismissed inconsequential people.

However, Sakura had never been inconsequential.

She was always extraordinary.

Bluntly, he told her if she wanted to pursue this, everything had to be accomplished through merit and she'd have to pass multiple psych exams. No favoritism would be extended. No exceptions made if she washed out. There were no promises she'd make it past being a beat cop let alone be promoted to detective. The hours were long, the work often grueling, and the pay, especially relative to the income she was commanding at the hospital, was utter shit. She would face distrust due to her unconventional background, be constantly underestimated and undermined due to flagrant sexism, and ultimately may be crushed by the weight of bureaucratic protocol. And none of this would bring Sasuke back or guarantee him justice.

Unfazed by the challenge, she didn't hesitate with her reply, "Sir, I only need one legitimate shot. I _will_ be a detective in five years."

Madara smirked at her confidence. She flinched at his close resemblance to Sasuke in that moment.

Just shy of five years, Sakura was promoted to detective.

...

Sakura never stepped foot in a hospital again.

When she dislocated her shoulder jumping down two stories in pursuit, she merely gritted her teeth and popped the sucker back in place before tackling the shit out of the fleeing suspect. When a tweaked-out junkie pulled a knife on her and got a decent slice across her thigh, she knocked the fucker out before cleaning and suturing her wound in the patrol car. Her partner at the time watched in morbid fascination. When a gangbanger with a sawed-off shotgun got a lucky shot straight to her Kevlar-protected chest, she popped Ibuprofen like candy to deal with a fractured rib and laid off the alcohol. It was the longest she went sober since Sasuke died.

Word spread. Sometimes a colleague would meet her in a dark corner of the precinct to get patched up. Insurance premiums were high. Hospital visits were expensive. Plus, it was discrete – hysterical and overreactive girlfriends, partners, and wives would be none the wiser. However, word spread a little too far. One irate, threatening phone call from Chief of Surgery Senju to Chief of Police Uchiha promptly shut down her charitable contributions to the department. So, she went back to only enabling her own self-detrimental aversion to the hospital.

Sighing, she rose to stand. It was a quiet morning, but it was going to be a shit day. People were going to walk on eggs shells around her or actively avoid crossing paths. Her partner would be especially attentive, in his own understated way. Naruto would be nearly insufferable with his mothering and Sai might even compliment her. And like every year, she would find herself locked in a room, pouring over Sasuke's cold case files, agonizing over what was missing. It continued to be the _only_ case she was unable to solve. Setting a brisk pace toward the station, her long pink hair billowed behind her as she intermittently sipped her coffee.

She should have added more fucking whiskey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is going to be a dark, complex, angsty wild ride. This is a Sakura/Kakashi story. Thank you so much in advance for reading and I sincerely hope you enjoy.
> 
> Please (!!!) take the time to review if you do enjoy this story. Your reviews truly give me life, are highly appreciated, and are exceptionally motivating as I re-read them (repeatedly) when I experience writer's block.
> 
> This is a cross-post from my account on FF.net (sassafrassing)


	2. Glory And Gore

_“It’s today, right?”_

_“Shut up, we’re not supposed to talk about it. Remember what Naruto-senpai said?”_

Shikamaru’s ears twitched. Feet propped up on his desk, he lazily leaned back on a cushioned office chair, the morning paper draped across his face to block the fluorescent lights and office gossip. A cigarette was neatly tucked behind his ear. His tie was loosened for the day, even though it was barely 8:00 am. Captain Yamato would probably give him shit for it as it wasn’t _‘professional.’_ People having expectations of you was such a drag. 

Most of the time he feigned napping to deter citizens and coworkers from bothering him. Throughout his life, he went out of his way to do nothing. He went out of his way to be utterly unremarkable. Anything else was just… troublesome. But much to his vexation, he was a certifiable genius. And he had a bat shit partner, who he grudgingly respected, that was equally brilliant and could kick his ass into _not_ doing nothing. 

Their clearance rate was unrivaled, solving more homicides together over the past two years than the rest of the department did in five. They received commendations from the mayor and the media, who became surprisingly enamored with their prickly dispositions and disdain for the limelight. Lately, most high-profile cases were sent down the chain of command to them, often accompanied with the unspoken notion that _‘Chief Uchiha was expecting results.’_

So. Fucking. Troublesome. 

_“I heard she’s twice as scary this time of year.”_

_“You’re going to get us assigned to parking duty you dipshit.”_

_“Is it true that she threw a rookie out a window last year?”_

_“It was through a window to the break room and it’s because he grabbed her ass—_

_“I don’t blame him—”_

_“Are you insane?”_

Goddamn rookies. Shikamaru internally sighed, recalling the incident and the paperwork he filled out on her behalf. Granted, she tucked her hair in a baseball cap that completely hid her distinct feature. The boot, fresh from the academy, was a hot-head, eager to prove himself among his testosterone-filled classmates. And Sakura _did_ have a really nice ass, though he’d rather pull the trigger of a shotgun with his toes than admit that aloud. Any other day her signature long hair would be clearly visible and any other day the idiot would have steered clear. Her reputation preceded her after all. 

_The Widow._ A crass, and technically inaccurate, nickname. Naruto tried shutting it down a couple years back with no success. The name stuck. The rumors and assumptions built off the name birthed a fearsome reputation, both within the department and on the street. Mostly bullshit, but it did prove useful at times. A recent perp nearly peed his pants when he realized it was _‘The Widow’_ chasing him down the street. He ended up surrendering to Shikamaru without complaint. _‘Better him, than her,’_ was his reasoning. 

He remembers scowling as everything unfolded, immediately recognizing the sheer amount of paperwork involved and the scolding he’d get from Captain Yamato – as if _he_ had the ability to control _her._ A lewd chuckle from a handsy boy. An audible crack as his radius was snapped cleanly in two. A loud yelp before a crash of shattered glass as his body flew into the break room. The distraught cries of Choji as shards rained down on his pizza, rendering it inedible. She merely huffed and told the other rookies to _‘clean this shit up’_ before throwing a $20 bill at Choji as a professional courtesy. 

Not even ten minutes later, in the back of an ambulance, the offending rookie put in an immediate transfer request. The official reason was that he preferred the suburbs. The unofficial reason was that retaliation against rats wasn’t only among criminals. And no one was going to vouch for someone who hadn’t proven themselves yet. 

_“You’re such a fucking buzzkill.”_

_“And you’re a prick. I’m here to work and get paid. Not ogle at a superior who could easily castrate us with a goddamn scalpel.”_

_“But I mean LOOK at her, yeah she might be ‘The Widow,’ but maybe she just needs a real good fu—"_

“Oi.”

The newspaper slid off his face as he sat up. He turned to them with a pointed glare. 

“Sorry for waking you Nara-senpai,” the more intelligent of the duo called out, having some decency to look ashamed. He harshly elbowed his less intelligent friend, who shakily echoed his apology. 

“Get back to work,” Shikamaru drawled out, “And if you talk shit like that again I’ll sic Naruto on your asses.”

“We won’t Nara-senpai,” again, the brighter fellow said, bowing profusely while shoving the other man’s head down to mimic his motions. 

“Tch,” the detective turned back around when a flash of yellow suddenly appeared before him.

“YO SHIKAMARU!” Naruto hollered, waving around a large, brown paper bag that smelled delicious. He could feel Choji’s attention suddenly snap in their direction.

“Yeah?”

“WHERE’S SAKURA-CHAN?” 

Troublesome. 

It was far too early for this. Also, how would he know? It’s not like they shared their locations with each other on ‘Find My Friends,’ although Naruto always badgered him as if they secretly did. Fortunately, Sakura soon walked in, dressed in all black and clutching a comically large, relative to her stature, cup of coffee. Her cheeks were bright red, flushed from the harsh cold and the tips of her fingers were pale, almost blueish. She must have walked instead of riding her Yamaha R1 this morning. She’d been walking a lot more lately. Her sunglasses remained on as well. 

Shit, that was always a bad sign… the drinking must have already begun. 

“HEY SAKURA-CHAN! HAVE YOU EATEN? I GOT YOU A BREAKFAST BURRITO!”

Shikamaru could feel her wince from his desk.

“Naruto, what have we talked about? About using our _inside_ voices?”

“Eheheh sorry Sakura-chan…”

She always had a weird knack for reeling in the rowdy blonde. Back in the day, it had been Sasuke…

“Hello… Not Ugly…” Sai popped up from behind Naruto, “You look… generally alive.”

Shikamaru groaned, the two idiots were going to set her off. Her pink brow elegantly rose, “That’s the non-compliment, compliment you’re going with this year?”

Naruto nudged his partner, hissing at him to do better. The socially inept man tried again, “I mean, you look… _positively_ alive?”

Naruto whacked the back of Sai’s head. She just shrugged, walking past them to take a seat at her desk immediately across from Shikamaru, taking multiple large, audible gulps of her coffee. 

Shit, it must be the expensive, good whiskey today. 

_“That’s the best you can do baka?!”_

_“I’m trying dickless.”_

_“TRY HARDER. AND I’M NOT DICKLESS—”_

A piercing whistle caught everyone’s attention. It was Captain Yamato, looking already exhausted, with his brown hair disheveled and the sleeves of his white button down rolled up. He was holding what was likely his fourth cup of coffee so far.

“Nara, Haruno, get your asses to headquarters right now – the Chief asked for you both.”

Both of them groaned and replied in unison, “Hai, Yamato-taichou.” 

“Fix your goddamn tie Nara, it’s not even 8:30 in the morning,” Yamato called out over his shoulder as he went back into his office. 

Sakura snorted into her cup as Shikamaru muttered _‘what a pain’_ under his breath.

“And ditch the sunglasses princess,” another voice called out. It was Lieutenant Shiranui, twirling a toothpick in his mouth while giving her an annoying wink and grin. 

It was Shikamaru’s turn to chuckle as she scowled, pushing the shades up past her forehead and propping her hair back. She squinted her eyes repeatedly, attempting to adjust to the harsh light and blink away her grogginess. After hastily fixing his tie, Shikamaru opened a drawer, fishing around for a bottle of bright pink liquid that he always bought in bulk and always had in stock at his desk. He threw it at her head, and she caught it with one hand without looking. 

Good, she wasn’t too far gone yet. 

_“Oh WOW Sakura-chan, good catch!”_

_“You’d have dropped that dickless.”_

_“Shut up asshole!”_

Sakura frowned, inspecting the foreign bottle until it dawned on her. It was strawberry flavored Pedialyte. 

Shikamaru gave her a knowing look, “Chug it. _All_ of it. I’ll drive.” 

It was non-negotiable. Her eyes softened. Simultaneously they stood, walking out of the precinct without bothering to say goodbye to Naruto and Sai, who continued bickering with each other.

Calling after them, _“WAIT SAKURA-CHAN, YOUR BURRITO!”_

 _“I’ll take it Naruto-kun!”_ Choji enthusiastically yelled out behind them.

Shikamaru sighed loudly, fidgeting with a lighter to ignite his cigarette. Hiding a small smile, Sakura quietly unscrewed the cap and started chugging. 

...

KMPD Headquarters was a modern, illuminated 30-story glass building in the center of Konoha. It was also a cold, intimidating beacon of authority looming over the city skyline. Inside the tower was floor after floor of sycophantic bureaucrats, eager to one-up each other to secure promotions and commendations. Everything they did was for glory. The complete opposite of Sakura and Shikamaru, who couldn’t give a flying fuck about making it past detective. After arriving on the top floor, she could feel stares searing into their backs as they walked toward the Chief’s office. Shikamaru strolled casually beside her, but she could tell he was tense. This environment made them both uncomfortable. 

His severe looking executive assistant saw them coming down the hall, wordlessly ushering them into the office as soon as they arrived. Madara’s uniform jacket was off, hanging neatly on a coat rack near his massive oak desk. Wearing a crisp, black button down and silk tie, this was the most casual she’d ever seen him. Long black, spiky hair covered most of his right eye, but his hard gaze still penetrated through. Large, skilled hands firmly grasped an open file that he was absorbed in. Neither dared to disturb the Chief, choosing to silently stand at attention across from him. There were no other chairs in the office. It was one of the many ways he exuded power over people. 

As if he wasn’t already intimidating as fuck. 

Setting the file down, his piercing eyes looked up at them when finally acknowledging their presence, “Haruno, Nara.”

“Sir,” they said in unison. 

Never one for pleasantries, “I called you here because an impeachable source confirmed Orochimaru is back in town.”

They both stiffened at the name. 

Orochimaru was a criminal mastermind involved in everything from arms dealing, trafficking, extortion, prostitution, money laundering, and more, all as a means to fund his gruesome hobby of human experimentation. One of his more egregious crimes was running a pedophile sex club, charging premium for _‘cherry poppers’_ and producing and distributing videos on the dark web. Ultimately it was busted, leading to the indictment of a few prominent church and community leaders. Two hung themselves before their day in court. One was viciously shanked after being _‘mistakenly’_ mixed with gen pop. About five years ago, when the Federal government was building an iron-clad RICO case against him, he suddenly vanished. Then the witnesses and evidence started disappearing too. 

“Clearly you’re both aware of him.”

They nodded. 

Leaning back in his chair, “What is _not_ widely known is that he is responsible for the car crash that killed the former mayor and his wife, Minato and Kushina Namikaze, 20 years ago.”

“Naruto’s parents…,” Sakura croaked out, “It was an assassination?”

“Yes.”

“Shit, and it was kept under wraps otherwise it would seem like open season to go after other city officials,” Shikamaru deduced. 

“ _Precisely._ I want you to assemble and lead a taskforce, reporting directly to me, to bring him in. We’ll need to play this extremely close to the chest as Orochimaru has a history of infiltrating this department. Your COs have already been briefed. They’ll delegate out most of your ongoing investigations as this is now your highest priority.”

They both nodded.

“Send me your recommendations for the taskforce by the end of the day, though Uzumaki is a non-starter. I’m sure you both can comprehend why.”

Slightly frowning, she bit back her protest. Madara was right. Naruto was a phenomenal detective, but a textbook loose cannon. The revelation that his parents were murdered rather than the victims of a tragic accident would cause a shit storm. All discretion and finesse would fly out the window. Still, it didn’t sit well with her that she couldn’t let Naruto know, or give him a shot at nabbing the piece of shit. 

Slightly turning his attention to the man next to her, he dismissed Shikamaru with a wave of his hand, “Nara, please wait outside while I speak with Haruno on a separate issue.”

Shikamaru glanced at her. She faintly nodded back that she’d be fine.

“Of course, sir.” 

There was a pause. After the door clicked closed behind Shikamaru, Madara leaned over his desk, resting both elbows on top with his hands clasped in front of his mouth, “Today is five years, right?” 

Green eyes widened in surprise, “Err yes, sir.”

“Anything new?”

“Sir?”

_“Detective.”_

She flinched at his enunciation, “No, still nothing.” Feigning ignorance was futile. They both knew that she continued working on Sasuke’s case all these years, against protocol. 

“Disappointing, but that’s to be expected.”

She grimaced, “It’s just… that can’t just be it. There’s no way it was random. It was a little too perfect. Convenient.”

“Unfortunately, sometimes things just happen. And cold cases are technically outside of your scope, Haruno.”

“But sir—"

“I won’t order your off,” she exhaled the breath she was holding, “But don’t let chasing after ghosts consume you. You’re a valuable asset. I’d hate to see something happen to you.” 

“I understand sir…”

He gave her a curt nod, “Good. You’re dismissed.”

She pivoted to turn, yet something made her pause, “Sir…”

He raised a brow, “Yes?”

Looking back toward him, hesitating, “How are… How are Sasuke’s parents?”

It _seemed_ as if his gaze _marginally_ softened, “They’re as well as can be expected. You should visit Mikoto-chan. She asks about you. You’re one of the closest things she has left of him.”

Her throat burned, constricting at the influx of emotions.

“Your choice.”

“I’ll consider it,” she said more to herself than to him.

There was pause.

“If there’s nothing else, I have another meeting.”

Her eyes widened and she frantically began to bow, “Oh yes, of course, sorry sir. Thank you for your time. Have a good day.”

As she rushed out, she failed to see Madara’s calculating eyes staring at the back of her skull. 

...

Shikamaru loosened his tie again. A cigarette hung carelessly from his lips as plumes of smoke rose around him. His eyebrows furrowed while scrolling through his phone. It was a look typically reserved for when either his mother or Temari were giving him a hard time. 

“You good Shika-kun?” she called out, interrupting his reading. Her cotton candy hair swirling around her as the wind picked up, ushering in dark, overcast clouds. 

Scowling while looking up, “You know I hate it when you call me that?”

Giving him a cheeky smile, “I know.”

Throwing the stub away, he ground it with the heel of his shoe. As they both piled into the black Dodge Charger, he shot off a quick text before turning on the ignition. On their way back to the precinct, it started to lightly snow. The steady rhythm of the windshield wipers echoed in the silent vehicle. Sakura gave her partner room to marinate on whatever was troubling him. He always shared, when he was ready. 

Sighing, “My mom is on my case about grandchildren.”

Letting out a low whistle, “Isn’t it a little early for this? In every sense of the word?”

“She’s an early riser. She likes Temari enough. And she’s bored with retirement already.”

Chuckling, “Are you interested in marrying Temari? Having kids with her?”

“She’s great. I love her. Eventual kids would be nice. But marriage seems like such a drag. So many ups and downs. Take my mom and dad for example.”

Staring wistfully as snowflakes pelted at the windshield and quickly melted from the heat of the vehicle, “I don’t know… even with all the ups and downs, it’d be nice to be married to someone you loved.”

Shikamaru’s hands suddenly tensed around the steering wheel. He opened his mouth.

Shaking her head, she interrupted his unspoken apology, “Don’t worry about it.”

He threw her a skeptical glance as she took out her flask and pulled a shot. 

She was feeling anxious, more emotional. A familiar pull behind her navel hinted that she might vomit. From withdrawal. From grief. Probably from both. She actually really hated alcohol. The taste and mouthfeel left a lot to be desired. But the _effects_ of alcohol kept everything at bay, numbing her. Blanketing her in nonchalance. Especially today. No longer needing to be 100% sober anymore, she pulled another shot. As long as Shikamaru felt secure that she had his back, he didn’t comment (aloud). As long as it didn’t interfere with the job, no one judged her at the precinct. Everyone had their own coping mechanisms and vices. Many equal to, and some even worse than, Sakura’s. 

Changing topics to divert his unsaid disapproval of her drinking, “Who do you think the source is?”

Shikamaru paused before answering, “I’m not sure, but if it was someone we needed to know, the Chief would have shared. He’s very deliberate with his words. That man doesn’t say anything more than he needs to.”

She nodded in agreement. 

“He’s too intense. It’s going to be such a fucking drag reporting to him.”

Laughing, “Yeah, he’s pretty terrifying. I’m glad he’s on our side though.”

“How you mean?” Shikamaru drawled. 

“I mean think about someone like _him_ … THE Madara Uchiha… focused on diabolical shit instead?”

Giving it a thought, “Yeah, that would be really troublesome.”

“Anyway, we’re both on the same page on who we want, right?”

“Tch, do you even have to ask?”

“Well, can you follow up with the Chief then? I’ll be—”

“Don’t worry about it. I got it.”

They both knew she’d start spiraling soon, holing herself up in a random room obsessively reading and re-reading Sasuke’s case files non-stop. Pulling up to the station, he slowed the car to a stop and shifted the gear to park. The snow was coming down heavier, in large, fat white flakes, beginning to accumulate on the asphalt, trees, and buildings. 

Eyeing the snow, “Call me if you need a ride home tonight or get one of the patrols to drop you off. _Do not_ walk home.”

Rolling her eyes, “I thought Naruto was supposed to be the mother hen?”

Giving her an unimpressed look, “Either listen to me or I’ll give Naruto a heads up that you need a babysitter.” 

Scowling, “Fine, asshole.”

Turning to her, he sighed, “Just… _try_ to take it easy today.”

She grimaced, “You know I can’t.”

He gently grabbed her shoulder with a reassuring squeeze. There was nothing left to say. 

...

Her uneventful shift was long over. No new revelations emerged from Sasuke’s files, yet again. She nearly flipped a table out of seething frustration. Naruto stopped by numerous times to check in, distracting her with the latest office gossip and recent developments in his cases. He tried feeding her ramen on three separate occasions and each time she turned him down. Ramen one of the ways the blonde coped, however she couldn’t really stomach it anymore. Weekly dinners at Ichiraku used to be a thing… before.

Sai stopped by twice. The first time, he awkwardly read the fortune from a half-eaten fortune cookie – _‘When one door closes, another opens’_ – in a poor attempt to console her. She was certain everyone could hear Naruto’s yelling when she kicked Sai out. The second time, he wordlessly slipped her a small piece of paper before scurrying out of the room. It was a rough, but beautiful sketch of an old group photo with her, Naruto, Sai, and… Sasuke. 

She nearly cried. 

Shikamaru visited her only once, and it was to leave a bento box and bone broth outside the door. He knew she didn’t like to be coddled. He also knew she could be utter shit at taking care of herself. Acquiescing to his earlier request, knowing he’d follow up on it, she got one of the patrols to drop her home. Despite it being late in the evening, it was the fact that she ran out of alcohol that prompted her to head home in the first place. 

The chime of the elevator signaled the arrival to her floor. Given the late hour, the lights were dimmed, and the hallway was empty and silent. Her footsteps were muted against the carpeted flooring. Arriving at Apt. 803, she saw a large, padded manila folder propped up against the door. Fumbling with her keys, she crouched down and grabbed it, before unlocking the door and pushing her way in. Throwing the package on her coffee table, she went directly to the kitchen cabinets and took out two bottles of red wine. It was the easiest to guzzle down and black out on. Uncorking a bottle, she took a lengthy swig, ingesting gulp after gulp as she looked around. 

Everything was exactly as she left it. As he left it. 

After Sasuke died, she didn’t dare move. There were so many memories in this apartment. A slight scorch mark near the stove from when he tried to be romantic and make a home-cooked meal, swearing and scowling as she teased him endlessly for jeopardizing her security deposit. A faint, yellowish residue was stamped on the wall next to the door from when she threw an orange at his head after he called her _‘annoying’_ during an argument. There was a slight scuff mark on the hardwood floor from when they decided to forgo the $75 delivery fee and move a new couch in themselves. He kissed her foot better before proceeding up her leg, past her thigh, to make her _really_ feel better, after they accidentally dropped the couch on her big toe. 

She shuddered at the memories, taking another large swig, easily halfway through the bottle at this point. Walking back over to the coffee table, she picked up the package, noticing a sticky note was attached. The handwriting was a slanted, elegant scrawl: _‘This was mistakenly delivered to me – Your Neighbor Pakkun, Apt. 808’_

Plucking the note and tossing it on the table, she took another drink before ripping open the top of the package and dumping out its contents in front of her. The only thing that dropped out was a single handheld, digital voice recorder. Flipping the empty package front to back to front again, she noted a few things: it was inconspicuous, the labels were printed, and the sender was an unknown P.O. box. 

Curiosity got the better of her as she exchanged the packaging for the device. After scrutinizing it, she turned it on. After second guessing herself about fiddling with a sketchy foreign object sent to a member of the KMPD, she tentatively pressed play. 

There was silence. Then static. Then, a voice. 

**_“Sakura…”_ **

The bottle of wine shattered at her feet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can typically write a new chapter for one of my stories about once a week, but I couldn't help but crank out _this_ chapter due to the incredible initial feedback! Your reviews and kudos blew me away! 
> 
> Thank you for reading! Please consider leaving a review. Have a nice day!


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